Pushing Boundaries
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: The Inspector, Phryne has decided, is delicious when he's angry.


**Title: Pushing Boundaries**

 **Rating: That man's _voice_. *fans self***

 **Summary: The Inspector, Phryne has decided, is delicious when he's angry.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not even live anywhere near Australia.**

 **Dedication: For CJ. I tried to hold a parade in your honor but they said no.**

* * *

It was probably an inconsiderate thing to do. It might also have been a slightly stupid thing to do. But it wasn't like she usually did it on purpose.

It was just that Inspector Jack Robinson was so _delicious_ when he was angry.

The voice was the biggest part of it. Jack had a wonderful voice every day of the week but when he was angry it dipped down low, growing rough and raw, with growls lining every word and a rumble in every vowel. He never barked or shouted at her—something she appreciated more than she could express—but his voice would become so deep and guttural that it would send shivers up and down her spine.

But as she said, she didn't usually make him angry on purpose. She didn't set out on an investigation thinking that surely tailing the dangerous and possibly quite insane head hospital doctor would be the key to making Jack angry.

It was merely a lovely side effect.

"Miss Fisher."

Phryne stopped pretending to listen to Dottie and Hugh's conversation and turned to meet Jack's gaze. He was trying to control himself in the company of others but his voice had gone down an octave and she could hear how the last syllable of her name trailed away into a barely restrained growl.

"In my office, if you please."

"Of course, Inspector." She tripped after him into the room, obligingly shutting it behind her.

And then he was on her, pressing her back against the wall; one hand at the back of her head to keep her from getting hurt, the other braced on the wall at the side of her head.

"Now, what should I do with you?" He murmured. She shivered, both at his tone and the feel of his lips brushing against the underside of her jaw. "I could slip my fingers right here…" His hand came behind her spread legs, his thumb pressing up against her damp underwear. "…work you like that and make you come again and again…"

His lips trailed lower and he scraped his teeth along the ridge of her shoulder. "Or I could kneel down and use my mouth and wait until you're begging before I let you finish…"

Phryne tried to swallow. Her throat felt like it was coated with sandpaper. "Jack, _please_ …"

"Or, I could do things the old-fashioned way." Jack slid his hand away and stepped forward between her legs, forcing her to spread them even wider. She could feel how hard he was, pressing right up against where she wanted him. "Go so fast and hard that you scream my name, let everyone know exactly what we do to each other?"

She could barely think, her throat working but no sound coming out as she tried to form words—she wanted to say yes, yes to all of it—she wanted his mouth, his fingers, his cock, but most of all she wanted that voice to keep saying those things in her ear and never, ever stop.

"Or should I cover your mouth?" He asked. "Be selfish, keep this just between us?"

She loved that—the words _we_ and _us_. Not what he did to her, like she was some kind of prisoner or possession. Not what she did to him, like he was a slave or a victim. What _they_ did to _each other_. A partnership, a set of equals, the same in the bedroom as it had always been in their cases and among their friends. 'Mum and Pops', Ces and Burt had even taken to calling them—though only when they thought Jack and Phryne were out of earshot, of course.

And she knew, that even though Jack had her pinned to the wall, even though he was the one currently in control, if she so much as fluttered her eyelids in nervousness he would step away. She wasn't his obsession. She'd had a taste of that all-consuming love and it nearly destroyed her. She was a woman, extraordinary but fallible and, most importantly, mortal.

Which, actually, was the reason Jack was in his current mood.

"How am I going to teach you to stop putting your life in unnecessary danger?" He asked her. His fingernails trailed lightly along her skin as he lifted up her dress and began work on her underthings. His shirt and her top, unfortunately, would have to stay on this time given their location.

"I don't know if I should stop," she replied, "When your punishments rather feel like rewards."

Jack growled again and nipped at her earlobe. "What if I didn't let you come?" He asked. "Would it be a reward then?"

"You wouldn't dare," she replied. She tried to sound threatening and mostly succeeded but then he dipped a finger inside of her and she ended the sentence on a gasp.

"No," he chuckled. "You look far too beautiful when you do."

"Tell me," she whispered. She didn't really care one way or another what she looked like during sex, but she needed him to keep talking. She needed to keep hearing that growling voice in her ear.

"Tell you what?" He replied. He was keeping his pace slow, teasing her, knowing she was already on edge and winding her up even more like a metal spring. "You want me to tell you how your lips part just wide enough for me to bite down on the lower one, how your breath brushes past my face?"

Phryne closed her eyes, letting his voice watch over her. If only he would move faster. It felt like his voice was sliding into her ear and through her bloodstream, boiling her from the inside out.

"Jack." She wasn't begging, exactly, just… asking nicely. "Jack, faster." She slid her hands down and started undoing his belt. If he wasn't going to get a move on, then she'd do it for him.

"Always pushing your luck," Jack growled.

"Only because I know you like it," she replied.

He scraped his teeth along the side of her neck and sucked at her pulse before drawing back to allow her to finish with his pants. "Not always. Not when it's your life on the line."

She reached for him but he grabbed her wrist. His touch was light but firm. It wouldn't bruise—he'd never touch her hard enough for that—but it meant business. She stilled.

His eyes found hers and held. "Promise me you won't fling your life in the path of danger like that." His voice was deep and grating together like a boulder rolling down a hillside. It made her shiver.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I promise that I'll try."

He seemed to know that it was the best he could ask of her, because he released her wrist and moved his hands back to her legs, parting them just a little more and lifting her up so that he could slide between them properly, start this thing _properly_ …

She had to kiss him to keep quiet, silencing that marvelous deep voice, but she could feel the vibration of it in his lips. When she pressed her mouth to his throat she could feel the rumble underneath the skin, like a lion preparing to roar, and it made her smile. She liked this angle, pressed up against the wall. It allowed for next to know space between them. Even though they were fully clothed she could feel almost every inch of him, and she could certainly feel every inch inside of her. It added another thrill to her already long list.

But when Jack came, for all his growling and smooth words, there wasn't any noise to it. It was like someone had punched him in the gut and all the breath shot out of him, silent and forceful.

Unlike Phryne Fisher herself.

Jack had gotten quite good at getting his hand or lips up in time to cover her mouth. Nobody wanted a repeat of last month when Collins had—well, anyway. Not one of them wanted to experience that again.

Oh, yes. Pushing Jack Robinson like she did probably made her a bit insane. But, she thought, kissing him lightly in the corner of his mouth as he slid out of her, it was most assuredly worth it.


End file.
